"Sex," she said.
"Yep," I said.
"That's what, all right. You hit it that time. Couldn't have
said it
better myself."
"Sex..." she repeated, lingering over the word as one might
linger over
the olive in one's first martini.
[N.B. The cover is pretty lurid in a bikini sort of
way.]
Regards, and I may have something to say about Vin Packer
when I get to
the right box - I know I have some of her stuff, although I
don't
remember much about it. Now I'm curious.
Mario Taboada
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